


Date Night

by EssayOfThoughts



Series: MCU Maximoff Oneshots [120]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Codependency, Dating, Fluff, Gen, Pietro Maximoff Lives, SO MUCH FLUFF, like a cotton candy cloud of sugary fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-07
Updated: 2017-05-07
Packaged: 2018-10-29 07:25:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10849266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EssayOfThoughts/pseuds/EssayOfThoughts
Summary: “Pietro?” she asks as she steps through to the main area of the rooms she shares with her brother.She’s not asking for his approval - she doesn’t have to ask for that, Pietro always approves of her no matter what. She could kill a man and Pietro would approve of her. She’s blessed in that regard: Pietro will never think ill of her; he made himself unable to when they were both still children.She asks for his attention for his agreement and Pietro turns and smiles and stands.“Here,” he says, taking her hair down from it’s high ponytail. “You look so fierce otherwise. You do not want to scare him, I think.”





	Date Night

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lucdarling](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucdarling/gifts).



> For a prompt by lucdarling: "Maximoffs & whomever else you want to write". I decided to use it to finish off a WIP that has been in my drafts for almost a year. This is nothing but the worst kind of utterly baseless, useless, meaningless fluff.

The shoes clack over the hardwood floor. They barely add an inch to her height, but there’s something reassuring about the sound. If she were going to train with Natasha she would wear the boots she’d spent months breaking in until she can walk in them in silence. If she were going to train with Cap or Wilson or Colonel Rhodes she’d wear the combat boots she’d broken in and padded so carefully that she can run for miles in them and barely feel the impact of her own footfalls.

But this, this is a date, and so she wants something that is reassuring. 

There is a process. There is a process to preparing for battle, to preparing for a press conference, for preparing for  _ bed _ . There is a process to dealing with her nightmares and Pietro’s, to navigating each conversation with their new team, with the Avengers. There is even a process for preparing for dates.

Wanda’s not really been one for dates for a very long time.

 

* * *

 

“Pietro?” she asks as she steps through to the main area of the rooms she shares with her brother.

She’s not asking for his approval - she doesn’t have to ask for that, Pietro always approves of her no matter what. She could kill a man and Pietro would approve of her. She’s blessed in that regard: Pietro will never think ill of her; he made himself unable to when they were both still children.

She asks for his attention for his agreement and Pietro turns and smiles and stands.

“Here,” he says, taking her hair down from it’s high ponytail. “You look so fierce otherwise. You do not want to scare him, I think.”

Wanda smiles and embraces her brother.

“Thank you,” she says. And then, “I will be home safe. Wait for me?”

 

* * *

 

When she gets downstairs Vision is waiting for her, stood by the bottom of the stairs. His magenta skin and silver-green panels still shine softly in the light, his attempts at creating clothing from nothing still look just a  _ little _ unreal. There is no way Vision could ever be mistaken for human but Wanda doesn’t care about that because Vision is a person, a person with a calm mind and a willingness to try to understand and offer reasoning without anger or argument.

Vision is peaceable and clever and calm and was good company in the weeks it took them to fix Pietro after Novi Grad.

“Wanda,” he says, soft and gentle, taking a single step forward and offering her his hand. He does not flinch at the nervous twitches of scarlet that fall from her fingers any more than Pietro does and his hand is cool and solid in hers. “Are you ready to go?”

 

* * *

 

It’s a small restaurant he takes her to. She’s reasonably sure that most of the other diners there are ex-SHIELD - actual SHIELD, not HYDRA-SHIELD - the ones which Stark plucked up to employ in the wake of the Battle over the Potomac and which live all over the area, filling in jobs at the base. This means, almost inevitably, they’re probably going to pass this information along to one or another of their teammates, but this also means, thankfully, that not one of them stares at Vision, that not one of them is obvious in their watching.

“Can you even eat?” Wanda asks as they begin to peruse menus. “Do you need to?”

Vision frowns. “I do not need to,” he says. “But I am… capable of it, I believe. I have a body that was designed along human lines, organs included. I have a mind - a brain - which you can see, and a throat and an oesophagus. According to Doctor Cho I should be able to eat if I wish to.”

Wanda cannot help her smile at the gentle fondness in his voice when he speaks of Doctor Cho. She thinks he almost sees her as a mother, the one who’s Cradle crafted his body, one who’s single effort of will after being freed from Ultron’s hold was to try to keep Ultron from his plan, allowing Vision to be born as  _ Vision. _ She, better than anyone, understands him and who he is and when he was not comforting her over Pietro, when she was sat by Pietro’s Cradle, praying and pleading as she had not prayed nor plead since she was small, he would spend time with Helen Cho, learning who and what he was.

She reaches out a hand to take his. “Be careful,” she says. “When you have not eaten in a while - or eaten never - you should not start with solid food. It will make you very sick.”

There is consideration in his eyes as he tilts his head, and Wanda can see the momentary flash of thought across the surface of his mind, a hypothetical image of Wanda gaunt as a skeleton.

She decides not to tell him how close to that she and Pietro came, over the years.

 

* * *

 

Food arrives - Wanda convinced him to get Paprikash, to try something that was so important a part of her childhood. She has got some as well, because a chance to have Paprikash after all these years is not something she will ever pass up. They eat slowly - Vision at Wanda’s urging and the suggestion of his own data searches to be careful when first eating, Wanda to savour something that is almost desperately close to what she ate as a child.

Vision frowns as he eats.

“I do not think I am… tasting this right,” he says after a while. “I cannot…” he frowns, and Wanda stretches out her hand to his.

“This is how  _ I _ taste it,” she says, and lets scarlet curl into his skin, show him her memory of eating it, let him experience the splash of Paprika across her tongue, the texture between her teeth. 

Vision blinks, she thinks he might almost gasp in shock if not for the fact he did not exactly  _ need _ to breathe.

His fingers squeeze hers softly. “That’s amazing,” he says gently, eyes fixed on hers. “Amazing.”

 

* * *

 

When Wanda gets back she barely notices the extra inch her shoes give her. She barely notices the noise they make on the paving as they head back inside. She doesn’t even really think of them until she sits on the sofa beside her brother and kicks them off.

Pietro’s fingers tangle in her hair without asking, comb out the knots that have inevitably formed.

“You had fun?” he asks, his cheek gently leaning against her head. “Good date?”

“Very,” Wanda says softly. “Very.”

Pietro’s fingers are wrapping curls of her hair around his fingers now, tugging slightly at her scalp but not enough to hurt. “Good,” he says. “I would hate to have given Vision advice for nothing.”

Wanda laughs, and curls gladly against her brother.

 

* * *

 

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave comments!


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